


Furry Little Weirdos

by lemonicee



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Another cat fic, Cats, Established Relationship, Fluff, I just really love cats, M/M, Post-Canon, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonicee/pseuds/lemonicee
Summary: Andrew agrees to get a cat, but it doesn't go quite as Neil expects.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 28
Kudos: 344





	Furry Little Weirdos

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are a million fics about Neil and Andrew getting cats, but I couldn't get this particular spin on it out of my head. 
> 
> Also, I've had a lot of shit to cry about lately and writing this made me happy. The End.

Neil moves in with Andrew, and signs with Andrew’s team, and it’s amazing. He gets to sleep with Andrew every night and play on the same court as him every day for the first time since their last year at Palmetto.

The idea of a pet has literally never occurred to Neil. At no point in his entire life has it ever been even a vague option. Then one of their teammates gets a kitten with her girlfriend and shows him pictures after every practice. At first, Neil doesn’t really see the appeal; he’s just looking at the pictures to be polite, but one night she shows him a video of the little orange striped kitten rolling around on his back, using all four tiny feet to battle a feather on a string. Something about the look of concentration on his little face and how he goes for the toy like his life depends on it makes Neil pay attention. 

“What’s his name?” Neil asks. 

His teammate, Angela, sighs. “Tiger,” she says. “I’ve told you that like four times.”

“Sorry,” Neil says. “Sometimes I’m bad at listening.”

In his head, Andrew’s voice says _sometimes?_

Angela waves him off. “It’s cool. I have more videos if you want to see?”

“Sure,” Neil agrees. When Andrew comes to find him, he’s sitting against the wall in the hallway, looking at cat videos on Angela’s phone. They’ve moved on from Tiger and now she’s opened YouTube and is showing him compilations of cats falling off things. Neil is finding himself incredibly charmed by the weird little animals on the screen. He likes how they always land on their feet and walk away like nothing happened. 

Andrew looks between them and says, “I don’t want to know. Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll take more videos for you,” Angela says as Neil gets to his feet. “I’ll see if I can get him climbing the curtains this time.”

“I can’t wait,” Neil tells her. He means it and he can tell Andrew knows he means it because his eyes narrow suspiciously. 

As they get into Andrew’s car, he says, “We’re not getting a cat.” 

“I didn’t ask for a cat,” Neil points out. 

“Keep it that way,” Andrew says.

\----

A week later, Neil gets into Andrew’s car after another practice that ended in Neil huddled on the bench with Angela, watching cat videos. They’ve gone through cats knocking things off tables and cats getting baths and cats attempting to make friends with giant terrified dogs who run away when the cat boops them on the nose or tries to groom their ears.

“So,” he says. 

“No cats,” Andrew replies, immediately. 

Neil says, “I know, but hear me out.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything, so Neil takes that as permission and says, “They’re small and clean. Angela has this robot litter box that you only empty once a week. It’s super easy.”

“Maybe you should stop watching videos,” Andrew asks. “I like videos about a lot of things I don’t want in our apartment.”

“Like what?” Neil asks. 

“Serial killers,” Andrew says. 

“Oh,” Neil says. “I lived with one of those. A cat would be way easier.”

“Okay,” Andrew responds. “I like that video where Kevin trips over nothing in the middle of a game and I definitely don’t want that in our living room.

Neil rolls his eyes, but reaches for the hand Andrew doesn’t have on the steering wheel. Andrew lets him have it. “We don’t have to get a cat,” Neil says. “I’ve just never had a pet or the chance for one and they look like furry little weirdos in all the videos.” They’re at a red light, so he squeezes Andrew’s fingers to get his attention. When Andrew looks over, Neil says, “I like little weirdos.”

“Too bad I don’t like idiots,” Andrew says, and Neil assumes that’s the end of it. He would like to have a little cat bouncing around their house and chewing on his hoodie strings, he thinks, but not so much that he’s willing to push Andrew for it. Maybe Angela will let him cat-sit sometime.

He likes to think he knows Andrew so well that he’s rarely surprised by his reactions anymore, but he has to sit in the car and _process_ for a few minutes after they get home. Because, as Andrew gets out of the car, he says, “We can go to a rescue on Thursday. I get to pick the cat.”

“Literally any cat you want,” Neil says, when he finally makes it into the apartment. Probably a rescue won’t give them one that will claw his face off. And if they do, well, Neil is used to casual threats of violence in his own home.

When he pushes Andrew down on the couch after dinner and goes to his knees in front of him, Andrew says, “Is this because of the cat?”

“No,” Neil says. “This is because you’re a little weirdo.”

Maybe also a little bit because of the cat.

\----

The girl who greets them at the first rescue is so bubbly and happy that Andrew says, “No,” then turns around and walks out.

Neil follows him and Googles to find another cat rescue nearby. There’s one on the outskirts of town that seems to be run by a collection of older hippies. Their Facebook page is full of short videos of women in long, flowing skirts and men with non-hipster beards holding cats and telling the camera what makes each one special. He puts the address into Andrew’s phone.

“Maybe you’ll like this one better,” Neil says. 

Andrew, who has been watching him from the driver’s seat, says, “Doubtful,” but turns in the direction indicated by Google Maps. 

A lavender-haired retiree named Maeve meets them at the door this time. She gives them a once over with sharp eyes, taking in Neil’s scars and Trojans hoodie and Andrew’s armbands and blank expression. “Can I help you?” she asks, cheerful but not annoyingly so. 

Neil can see Andrew’s body language relax minutely so he says, “We wanted to meet some cats if that’s possible?”

“Of course,” Maeve says. “We have a few different rooms. I think I’d like to start you in the adult cat room and go from there.”

Andrew doesn’t seem to care, so Neil smiles at her. “That sounds great,” he says.

She takes them down a hall with doors labeled “Crazy Kittens” and “Sweet Seniors” and “Not Ready For Adoption.” Andrew’s eyes catch on that one for a second, because of course they do, but Neil nudges him past it. 

The next room says “Adoptable Adults.” Maeve opens the door and they all three walk into a room covered in wall to wall cat trees, with toys and scratching posts littered across the floor. There are cats scattered around, above their heads and hiding in corners, shining eyes peering out from the shadows. 

“I’ll leave you alone to meet them,” Maeve says brightly. “I’ll be just down the hall when you’re ready, one way or the other. No pressure.” She sounds sincere, which seems to make Andrew relax a little more.

Neil sits down on the floor and holds out his hand to a little grey tabby, who inches carefully out from under a bench to sniff at his fingers. When she gets closer, he carefully scratches behind her ears and is unexpectedly delighted when he stops and she butts her head against his hand for more. 

He’s petted cats before, here and there. At bodegas with resident mouse-chasers and the occasional housecat belonging to one of his mother’s contacts. But there were no cats in the dorms and Angela is the first teammate who has even mentioned a pet. The attention he’s giving the little tabby draws a small group of cats to his side. They trickle in tentatively, bodies held low to the ground, but ears pricked forward. He pets as many of them as he can reach, and loves every second of it. 

While Neil does that, Andrew is wandering around the room, looking in little cubby holes and holding out his fingers to be investigated by any cats he finds there. Neil picks up a cat in some combination of colors he doesn’t know the name of. “Come meet this one,” he says. “It’s interesting.”

When Andrew turns around, Neil is surprised to see that he’s holding a tiny black cat. It’s smaller than those in the herd of cats at Neil’s feet and is nestled into Andrew’s elbow, regarding Neil with slitted green eyes. 

“This one.” Andrew says. 

Neil lets the cat he’s holding jump down, then steps closer to Andrew and holds his hand out. The cat sniffs his fingers, then carefully licks the very tips. Neil has heard the phrase ‘my heart melted’ but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt it until now.

Neil steps into the hallway and waves down Maeve, whose smile turns puzzled when she sees the cat Andrew is holding. “Mister?” she says. “He never likes anyone. He was brought in as a stray a few months ago and he spent a couple of weeks totally feral before he even let us touch him. I’ve never seen him let _anyone_ hold him like that.”

She might just be trying to sell them on the cat, but Neil doesn’t think so. She looks legitimately shocked when the little cat in Andrew’s arms stretches one front paw out along Andrew’s wrist and rests his head on it, looking perfectly at home. 

“Well,” Maeve says. Neil thinks she might look a little bit teary. “I think this is your cat. If you’ll come with me, we’ll get the paperwork started and I’ll get Mister in a crate for you.”

She reaches out to take the cat from Andrew, but Mister immediately jerks away and hisses at her. It’s such a perfect mix of vicious and cute that Neil’s chest feels warm again. That’s what he would do if someone tried to take him out of Andrew’s arms, so he can relate. 

“Alright then,” Maeve says, unphased. “You can put him in the crate and then we’ll do paperwork.

Andrew looks down at the cat, who is huddling in the crook of his elbow again. “I’ll just carry him,” he says. Neil is a little worried that Maeve will argue with him, because Neil knows that the look on Andrew’s face means his mind is made up. 

“I guess that’s okay,” Maeve says, to Neil’s relief. “Just make sure you stay away from the front door. I don’t want to have to chase him down the street.”

Andrew points at Neil with his free hand. “He’ll do it.”

\----

Neil keeps a close eye on the cat when they go outside to the car, but he doesn’t seem in any hurry to go anywhere. Andrew digs the keys out of his pocket and hands them to Neil.

“Cat,” he explains, nodding down at Mister. 

Neil grins at him. “I see him,” he says. “Remember how you didn’t want a cat? What was that like, two hours ago?”

“It was my idea to come here,” Andrew says. Then, at Neil’s raised eyebrow. “To a rescue in general. Not _this_ rescue.”

Neil grins harder. “Sure. We'll go with that.”

As Neil drives them home, Andrew holds the cat in one hand and takes pictures of him with the other. Neil does not comment. He also doesn’t comment when Andrew starts texting with the hand not holding the cat. Neil can hear his phone repeatedly vibrating in the cupholder, which means Andrew is probably sending pictures of the cat to their group chat. When he stops at an especially backed up light, he gets his phone out and glances at his texts. Andrew has, indeed, sent a few pictures of the cat to their group chat. 

Neil checks in front of him, but the light is still red, so he scrolls down past the “Awww”s and “You got a cat?!” and, from Kevin, “Really? A cat?” 

The next thing Andrew has sent is, “Taking name suggestions.”

“You’re going to let them name the cat?” Neil asks. He did not see that coming. If there had been a bet on this, he would have lost.

Andrew shrugs. “Probably not, just want to see how dumb they make it.”

The light turns green, so Neil puts the phone in his lap and inches forward until the light changes again and traffic stops. When he looks back at his texts, the name suggestions have started to roll in. 

**Dan** : Igor!  
**Matt** : Babe, it’s not a vampire.  
**Nicky** : King Fluffkins  
**Dan** : Iggy? Like Igor but not a vampire?  
**Allison** : Allison  
**Kevin** : Exy  
**Nicky** : King Fluffkins  
**Matt** : I liked Kevin’s idea. Screencap this because I’ll never say that again.  
**Allison** : No, everyone will think you named your cat Sexy.  
**Kevin** : Only if they’re idiots. It’s a sport.  
**Renee** : Salem. Like from Sabrina.  
**Allison** : Salem!!  
**Dan** : Salem!!!!!  
**Nicky** : King Fluffkins  
**Aaron** : You guys know Andrew is fucking with you, right? He’s never going to pick any of these.  
**Aaron** : Katelyn also says Salem.  
**Nicky:** King. Fluffkins.

There’s a quick beep behind him and Neil looks up to see the car in front of him is moving. 

“The light’s green,” Andrew says, helpfully. 

Neil flips him off and starts driving. The cat has fallen asleep on Andrew’s lap. “Did they live up to your expectations of dumbness?”

“Yes,” Andrew says. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

“What do you actually want to name him?” Neil asks. 

“I’ll let you know,” Andrew says, then points at a Petsmart. So Neil pulls into the parking lot. 

Andrew carries the cat inside. He’s awake again, and sits happily against Andrew’s body, his ears turning like satellites as the automatic doors swish open and air conditioning rushes over them. An employee nicely tries to remind them that all pets are supposed to be on a leash or in a carrier, but Andrew blows right past her. 

“Sorry,” Neil says. “I promise he won’t be a problem.”

“The cat?” the girl asks. 

“No,” Neil says fondly, watching Andrew stop in front of a display of collars. “My boyfriend.”

\----

As soon as they get home, Andrew takes the bag full of toys and the cat and sits on the floor in the living room. Neil expects the cat to immediately run and hide, like Maeve told them he would. Instead, he sits on the floor across from Andrew and watches with interest as Andrew starts opening a catnip mouse dangling from the end of a wand.

Neil leaves him to it and goes to unpack the rest of what they got for the small fortune they spent at the pet store. He finds a spot for the bowls and food in the kitchen, fills the little fountain they got in purple because the store didn’t have any in black, and is clearing a corner of their small laundry nook for a litter box when the cat brushes past his legs and jumps onto the dryer. 

“King,” Andrew says. When Neil turns around he’s standing in the short hallway linking the laundry room and guest bathroom with the bedrooms. 

“King?” Neil asks. “Wasn’t that Nicky’s suggestion?”

Andrew shrugs. “Half of it.”

Neil pushes the litter box into the newly cleared space and fills it with litter, The cat, King, apparently, jumps off the dryer and immediately starts digging around, so Neil goes to stand with Andrew and give the cat some privacy. Andrew’s hands immediately go to Neil’s belt loops, where he threads his fingers through the denim and pulls Neil against him. 

“Are you naming him that because Aaron said you wouldn’t?” Neil asks. He dips his head down and kisses the corner of Andrew’s mouth.

“Yes,” Andrew says. “Now stop talking about my brother when I’m trying to make out with you.”

“Is that what this is?” Neil asks, faux innocent. “Because I was going to talk about how you’re about to be Nicky’s favorite cousin.”

“Keep it up and there will be no making out,” Andrew says. But his mouth is still right there, so Neil closes the distance and kisses him. When they come up for air, the cat is sitting on top of the dryer again, watching them.

“He probably needs some time to explore the apartment,” Neil says. “We should go into the bedroom and give him some space. Maybe shut the door so he doesn’t feel watched.”

“Let me guess,” Andrew says. “If we’re going to be in there anyway, we might as well have sex?”

One side of his mouth is quirked up in amusement, so Neil kisses it. “I love when you read my mind.”

When they come back into the living room later, King is sitting in one of the boxes from the pet store, ignoring the half dozen toys surrounding him. 

Andrew peers into the top of the box. “Good job being a cat,” he tells King.

“Mrow,” King responds.

\----

Neil likes having a cat. He likes how King curls up at the foot of their bed to sleep and how he sits on the counter every morning while Neil makes smoothies after his morning run. He likes the headbutts for ear scratches and he _especially_ likes watching Andrew dance the little mouse wand around while King chases it like he might actually get to eat it at the end.

The only problem is that King is, without a doubt, _Andrew’s cat_. He follows Andrew everywhere. He likes Neil, but Neil suspects that’s only because he can tell that Andrew likes Neil. That’s what the little lick was at the shelter, Neil thinks. Confirmation that King likes who Andrew likes. On the couch, King will come to Neil for attention and pets, but he inevitably ends up in Andrew’s lap, kneading happily at the blanket draped over their legs before curling up and falling asleep.

Andrew seems to adore the cat -- which Neil doesn’t think any of them ever thought would happen -- and Neil is thrilled that he’s found his animal soulmate, or dameon, or whatever. Not only because of the millions of pictures Neil takes of them. Pictures so painfully adorable that Andrew refuses to let Neil send them to anyone but him. 

But, dammit, Neil really wanted a cat for himself. He isn’t going to say anything, he would never say anything, but if he bribes King with a little extra canned food when it's Neil’s turn to feed him, then who needs to know? He doesn’t want King to love Andrew _less_ , he just wants him to love Neil a little bit more than he currently does.

During practice one day, Neil tells Angela about the cat thing. “He’s so sweet,” he says. He turns his phone screen to show her a picture of King perched on Andrew’s shoulder in the kitchen, supervising while Andrew makes coffee. Andrew let him send that one to their friends, so Neil assumes it’s safe to show Angela. “Like a little black hole of affection. It’s just mostly aimed at Andrew.”

“You know,” she says. “A lot of people think you should always have two cats. So they’ll keep each other company.”

“Yeah?” Neil frowns at her. “I don’t know. Andrew barely agreed to one and King seems so happy. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Angela shrugs. “Just a thought. We’re going to an adoption event this weekend to find Tiger a sibling. Text me if you want the details.”

“Thanks,” Neil says. Then, “Hey, do you want to see a video of King?”

Angela beams at him. “Literally more than anything.”

\----

Neil does not think that trying to get Andrew to agree to a second cat is the answer here. He just has to make the one they have like him enough to sleep on his lap sometimes. That doesn’t seem like it should be impossible.

Winning King’s adoration turns out to be harder than he thought. He starts slipping King treats in the morning when Andrew is still asleep, which is the only time Neil has King’s full attention. King eats the treats happily and flicks his tail around when Neil pets him, but the second Andrew shuffles out, King leaps off the counter and goes to wind himself around Andrew’s ankles until Andrew picks him up. 

The internet tells him that cats bond when you play with them. So one night, when Andrew is dancing the wand toy around the top of their coffee table and they’re both watching King repeatedly catch and murder it, Neil says, “Can I try?” 

Andrew hands him the toy, so Neil copies what Andrew does and flits it over King’s head and across the table. Instead of chasing it, he tilts his head to one side and looks at Andrew. Neil tries again, dipping the toy down in front of King and then jerking it back up so it bounces in and out of his line of sight. He blinks at Neil, then jumps from the coffee table to the couch and sits on Andrew’s lap. 

Neil sighs. “Nevermind,” he says. “I’m going for a run.” He knows it’s a cat and he knows this isn’t a personal rejection, but he feels stupidly hurt. Running is better than staying here and sulking like an asshole. 

Andrew tilts his head in an exact replica of the confused look he just got from King. “It’s 9 PM,” he says. 

Neil tosses the cat toy onto the couch beside Andrew. King immediately bats at it. 

“It’s fine,” Neil says. “I’ll use the treadmill in the gym. 

Then he changes clothes and goes to their complex’s gym and runs until he doesn’t have an irrational pit of disappointment in his stomach.

\----

When he gets home, they don’t talk about it. Neil assumes Andrew is waiting for Neil to bring it up, but Neil has zero intentions of saying anything that indicates he has a problem with Andrew bonding with their cat. He will just have to try harder to make King like him.

The next day, after practice, Andrew turns the car out of the parking lot in the opposite direction of their apartment. “Where are we going?” Neil asks. 

“To get you a cat,” Andrew says, as if this should be obvious. 

Neil frowns at him. “We got a cat two weeks ago,” he says. “Did you hit your head at practice and I somehow didn’t notice?”

“I got a cat two weeks ago,” Andrew replies. His tone still suggests that Neil is the one not making sense. “I thought you might like to pick one for yourself.”

“Oh,” Neil says, and has no other response. He should have known this was coming, he realizes. Andrew, for all of his being _Andrew_ , wants Neil to be happy. The whole reason they got King in the first place was to make Neil happy. It’s not that having King has made Neil unhappy, it just hasn’t been the experience he imagined when Andrew agreed. Letting Andrew pick the cat meant they got a cat, but Andrew is right, _Neil_ didn’t get a cat. 

Halfway there, he looks at Andrew’s profile as he drives and says, “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Andrew says. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Twenty minutes later, they pull into the parking lot of the same rescue where they got King. Inside, Maeve looks concerned at their entrance. “Is everything okay?” she asks. “Is there a problem with Mister?”

“No, King is great,” Neil says cheerfully. “We thought he might need a friend, though.”

Maeve clasps her hands together in front of her chest. Her sweater has a huge metallic cat printed across it. “How wonderful,” she says. “We’ve had a lot of turnover in the past couple of weeks, so why don’t I take you to meet our new cats?”

Like Maeve said, there are a lot of new little faces in the adoptable adult room. This time, Andrew hangs back just inside the door and watches as Neil sits on the floor and lets the cats come to him. They’re all adorable and fuzzy and curious, but none of them feel like _his_ cat. After half an hour, he’s trying to decide if he should just pick a cat and hope they bond later, or come back another time and try to find one he connects to like Andrew did with King. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door and Maeve sticks her head in. “No luck?” she asks. 

“I don’t know.” Neil shrugs. “They’re all really cute, but…” He shrugs again, suddenly feeling incredibly lame about moping over his lack of an instant soul bond with a cat. 

“None of them are speaking to you?” she asks. “Metaphorically.”

“Something like that,” Neil agrees. 

Maeve looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, “We do have one more. She’s only been here long enough to get fixed and vaccinated, but I have a good feeling. Would you like to meet her?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, before Neil can respond. 

Maeve takes them up a set of stairs at the end of the hall and into a much smaller room. At first, Neil doesn’t see anything. Just a cat tree in one corner and a pile of blankets in the other. Then he realizes that the top blanket on the pile is actually a huge grey and white cat with more fur than Neil knew was possible. 

“We’re calling her Cashmere,” Maeve says. “Because she has so much fur that it’s like she’s wearing a sweater.”

Neil crosses the room and sits cross-legged beside the blankets. Cashmere pulls herself into a sitting position and sizes him up. When he holds his fingers out to be sniffed, she ignores it. Neil takes his hand back and turns his upper body around to tell Andrew that he thinks this one isn’t right, either. He’s only gotten to Andrew’s name, though, before he feels a sharp pressure on his leg and turns back around. Cashmere has both of her front feet on Neil’s knee. It kind of hurts, because she has to weigh more than twenty pounds and it feels like it’s all balanced on the tiny pads of her feet, but Neil doesn’t care. 

He stays very still as she climbs the rest of the way into his lap and sits back on her haunches. She’s tall enough to be face to face with Neil when she puts one front paw in the center of his chest and leans up higher to sniff at his face. There’s a bare patch on her belly, around a pink line of new scarring down her abdomen where she’s been fixed. 

“Hi,” Neil whispers. She blinks light blue eyes at him, slow and lazy, then drops her foot from his chest and flops down across his legs. 

Behind him, Andrew says, “We’ll take this one.”

Neil can hear Maeve talking about which paperwork they do and don’t need to do again, but he isn’t listening. Cashmere doesn’t protest at all when Neil scoops her up and gets to his feet even though it takes both arms to hold her. 

“She’s part Maine Coon,” Maeve is saying. “They get big, but she’s exceptional.”

“She’s perfect,” Neil says. She’s as huge as King is tiny and Neil is _delighted_ by it. 

He has to carry her out because the only crates big enough for her are dog crates and it’s an all-cat rescue. She pops her head up over his shoulder and looks around, but makes no attempts at escape. Neil is holding her against his chest, but she’s so big that he has to crane his neck to see around her so he can open the car door. 

As Andrew drives them home, Neil remembers the group text from King’s adoption and gets his phone out. She takes up so much space in his lap that it takes him most of the drive to get a good angle on her. He finally gets a shot of her standing with her back feet on Neil’s thigh and her front feet on the car’s windowsill. She looks at him just as he snaps the photo and the sun makes her bright eyes look even more blue. 

He sends it to their friends and adds, “We need another name.”

 **Kevin** : Seriously? Don’t you guys have better things to do than adopt endless cats?”  
**Matt** : You’re just mad they didn’t choose your name last time.  
**Dan** : Adorbs! Name it Mittens! Idk why, it’s just cute.  
**Nicky** : Sir Fat Cat McCatterson  
**Allison** : Allison. I told you.  
**Renee** : Its eyes are the same color as Neil’s.  
**Dan** : Awwwww!!  
**Allison** : Aw!  
**Matt** : AWWWWW!  
**Nicky** : Sir Fat Cat McCatterson  
**Allison** : Stop, they aren’t going to choose your dumb name again. Neil, do not choose his dumb name.  
**Aaron** : If I tell you to pick one of these names this time, will you choose a different, better one instead?  
**Nicky** : Sir. Fat. Cat. McCatterson.

“Can I name her Sir even though she’s a girl?” Neil asks Andrew. 

Andrew doesn’t even look at him. “Yes, idiot.”

“Alright,” Neil says. He runs his hand down Sir’s back, then scratches under her chin when she looks at him. To the group chat, he sends, “Sir it is.”

The number of victorious emojis Nicky sends back fill Neil’s entire screen.

\----

They spend slightly less money at the pet store this time. The guy at the door doesn’t say anything about carriers or leashes, so Neil carries Sir in his arms while they get a collar and another food bowl. When they get home, Neil and Andrew sit on the floor and put both cats between them. This is in direct opposition to Maeve’s instructions. She told them to keep the cats in different rooms for at least a week and let them get used to each other’s smells before introducing them.

That sounds time-consuming and boring, though. Not to mention that King has never been anything except perfectly mannered. The cats sniff each other and give a couple of half-hearted hisses, but an hour later they’re both asleep on the huge new cat tree behind the couch. Sir is at least three times King’s size. 

Neil gives Sir a tiny kiss on her giant head, then flops bodily on top of Andrew on the couch, and listens to him make an _oof_ sound before his arms come around Neil’s waist. Neil tucks his head under Andrew’s chin and snuggles in close. He has two ridiculous cats and a ridiculous boyfriend, so his life has basically turned out perfectly. 

Who would have guessed?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @likearecord, as always, for encouraging my ideas and holding my hand and being awesome. 
> 
> We have four cats between us and one of them is named Iggy, so a little shout out to him there! Sorry to the other three, your names just didn't work. Still love you!


End file.
